


comes and goes (in waves)

by orphan_account



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins, The Hunger Games
Genre: Annie Cresta - Freeform, F/M, Fannie, Finnick Odair - Freeform, Odesta, the hunger games - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-12
Updated: 2012-10-12
Packaged: 2017-11-16 03:55:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 738
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/535207
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>finnick odair finds comfort in the sea and waits for annie's return.</p>
            </blockquote>





	comes and goes (in waves)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [eliatan02](https://archiveofourown.org/users/eliatan02/gifts).



  
**comes and goes (in waves)**   
_this part was for her, does she remember?_   


What he loved most about the sea was not its warmth or its captivating beauty, but the way it always welcomed him, with no expectations or any regard for his celebrity status. It was one of the few simple joys he had left; far removed from the pressures that came with the job of Being Finnick Odair. And so, he drowned his worries in it, washing away the grime and filth before it could sink any further into his skin and seep into his bloodstream.

He swam for what felt like miles, paying no mind to the depth. He was a skilled swimmer, after all. And besides, the ocean was much too vast and open a place for the government to have neglected to take precautions. He’d never been out far enough to find out, but he was sure his access was limited, enclosed by a force field of some sort. The Capitol wouldn’t risk the possibility of one of its citizens escaping somehow, no matter how improbable the chance.

Far out enough that he could just barely make out the shore in the distance, Finnick turned over and floated on his back, enveloping himself in the warmth of the sun and the sea. He shut his eyes and tried to picture himself somewhere else, in an alternate universe where there was no Capitol, no Hunger Games, no Panem. Surprisingly, this wasn’t hard to imagine; he’d pretended so much that sometimes, it didn’t feel like pretending. The hard part was eventually having to face reality again that such thoughts would always remain fantasies.

Of course, it was always easier when Annie was around; everything was. The pretending never felt like make believe and the reality never felt real. But Annie never seemed to be around for much lately. There were occasional glimpses of the wide-eyed girl he’d fell in love with, but those moments were too short and far between, and all the Games had left him with were an empty young woman and the ghost of their memories.

“How are you today, Annie?” he’d ask, in hopes of getting some sort of response. Or, “Do you remember me, Annie?” More often than not, silence was his only answer.

But this isn’t to say she never still fought; Finnick could see it in her eyes. The Games made another victim of a victor, this was true, but Annie Cresta was not weak or fragile. She didn’t want to be afraid and she was fighting with every nerve in her body to not let this disease consume her. Some days, she was strong enough, and Finnick would have his Annie back. But most days, he watched her suffer until he couldn’t bare the silence or vacant stares anymore, and would find himself tying knots at the docks or swimming out into the sea.

He always felt so guilty, leaving her, that he always found himself returning to her side after an hour or two, but he’d found the time he’d spent away from her or anyone else quite helpful. He could be as miserable as he wanted to when he was alone, but he needed to be strong for Annie. He couldn’t stand to let her fight another battle on her own.

She wasn’t here again today, which was why he was so far out in the sea, blocking out everything else but the motion of the waves calmly rocking him back and forth, the way his mother used to when he was little and would have a bad dream. 

He pictured Annie there with him, the sound of her laughter rising above the sound of the ocean as she’d splash him with water or playfully duck his head beneath the surface. He’d pull her under with him and kiss her, slow and soft, until either of them needed to go back up for air.

“Breathing is overrated,” he’d tease her after she would undoubtedly cave and head back to the surface first. 

“Finnick _Odair_ is overrated,” she’d laugh in return.

And he would pretend to be hurt and swim after her until the sun set.

He allowed himself to pretend for a little while longer, until he would have no choice but to swim back to shore and return to Annie and cling to the hope that one day she would return to him too.


End file.
